


A Broken Hallelujah

by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes)



Series: Holly's Hobbit Birthday Fics 2020 [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23208385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiasobi_writes/pseuds/hollyandvice
Summary: "I can't do this."Nat steps in his way, eyes hard as she tries to meet his. He ducks his head and tries to sidestep her, but she's too fast. She cuts into Steve's way and stands there, resolute."Move, Nat.""No."When Pepper calls Steve to get Tony out of a bad situation, it isn't the kind of situation Steve was anticipating. Takes place sometime vaguely post CACW. Written for AvengersNewB's prompt: Some sad and broken make up sex? Crying maybe?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Holly's Hobbit Birthday Fics 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668586
Comments: 13
Kudos: 202





	A Broken Hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvengersNewB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengersNewB/gifts).



> This went a weird direction. I'm sorry?

Steve stands on the threshold of the penthouse, staring into the pale dark like he might be able to see what's inside. Like he might be able to minimize the damage he's about to do. The damage he's already done.

He turns around, shaking his head. "I can't do this."

Nat steps in his way, eyes hard as she tries to meet his. He ducks his head and tries to sidestep her, but she's too fast. She cuts into Steve's way and stands there, resolute.

"Move, Nat."

"No."

Steve closes his eyes. "Nat, please."

"Don't you fucking dare, Rogers. You know as well as I do what's going to happen to Tony if you don't get in there and break that spell. We both know you're the only one that can do this." Her voice drops low and she steps in close against him. "Pepper wouldn't have called you if there had been any other way."

Steve winces at the truth in that assertion. There's no love lost between him and Pepper, he knows. Not since he nearly punched Tony's skull to pieces in Siberia. He doesn't blame her. He's not so fond of himself right now either. So why they'd called for him is still an absolute bafflement.

He looks back at Nat, trying to convey a conviction he doesn't feel. "Don't ask me to do this."

"To save his life? Steve." She shakes her head. "You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you let him die."

It's the truth, one he's held too close to the chest for too long. But it doesn't matter. He isn't going to stoop to this level. This Strange person — Sorcerer Supreme, they'd called him — must have some other way to save Tony. Something that isn't—

Isn't _this_.

Steve bows his head. "Nat—"

"I'm not going to let you let him die, Rogers. We both know that's what's going to happen if you don't get in there in the next fifteen minutes. So get the fuck over yourself and go save him."

Before Steve can get a word in edgewise, Nat's shoving him through the penthouse door and locking it behind him. Steve slas a fist against it, knowing that even if he could bust the damn thing down, FRIDAY wouldn't let him get back into the elevator. She seems to know exactly how much trouble Tony is in and seems to agree with everyone else's assertion that he's the only one that can save Tony.

Steve rests his head against the door for a long moment, th cool metal distracting him from the potential pain that awaits him in the other rooms. He doesn't want to see what Tony's been reduced to, doesn't want to watch his world fall apart again, but part of him knows that Nat's right. If he doesn't do this, Tony's going to die, and he'd never be able to forgive himself for that.

Steve turns away from the door and makes his way through the penthouse to the room Tony and Pepper share. He hesitates again at the door to the bedroom, his gut churning with shame. He doesn't deserve the trust Pepper has put in him, but if he can do this… if he can make amends, then maybe it will be worth breaking his last shot at earning back Tony's friendship. He knocks on the door, not expecting a response, but feeling some need to maintain at least the illusion of social niceties. When nothing is forthcoming, Steve opens the door and slips inside.

The room reeks of sweat and come and Tony, and Steve can't stop the way he flinches at the first whiff. He swallows around the want that curls in his belly, and tries to ignore the shame that follows quickly on its heels. This isn't for him. This is for Tony. Whatever Tony needs. Whatever it takes to keep him safe and alive.

Steve's eyes adjust to the low light quickly enough. The first thing that he sees is the destruction that Tony has evidently wreaked on the room. Clothes cover the floor, the closet door is hanging off its hinges, and there's all kinds of metal bits and bobs on the floor, like Tony had been trying to invent his way out of this. The second thing Steve sees is the way Tony's curled on his side in bed, shaking ever so slightly in the low light.

The third thing he sees is that the low light in the room is coming from a new arc reactor pressed into Tony's sternum.

Steve nearly stops right then and there. He knows somewhere in the back of his mind that he's the one that put the damn thing back in Tony's chest — god, what had he been _thinking_ slamming the shield into the suit like that? — but he still wants to hightail it out of there and get his hands on anyone else he can blame for the injury.

Steve forces himself to take another step closer to the bed. This isn't about him. This is about Tony. About keeping him alive. Alive. Alive.

"Tony?" Tony stirs slightly, but doesn't turn over. Steve's throat goes tight and before he can think better of it he's across the room, one knee on the bed as he reaches a shaking hand out toward Tony. "Tony, ar you…"

It's just as well that Tony surges into action before Steve can finish the question. He's not entirely sure how he would have. But then Tony's on him like a demon, shoving him onto his back in the bed as his fingers scrabble at his suit. He gives up that effort quickly enough, choosing instead to fist his hands in Steve's overlong hair. For on wild second Steve thinks Tony's about to kiss him, but then his head is being hauled back so Tony can maul his throat. Steve groans at the intensity of the touch, the way his whole body still responds to Tony like they haven't spent the better part of a year apart. Tony's always had a hold over him, always been able to keep him under his thrall, and Steve knows it's going to take a herculean effort to keep from succumbing to this. He knows what he needs to do, knows how to keep Tony alive and in one piece, he just has to actually do it. He has to.

Tony pulls back far enough that Steve can see the want in his eyes. The complete and utter need. It makes Steve sick, knowing that he's taking advantage of Tony when he's so vulnerable, but if it's to keep him safe, Steve can only hope that Tony will be able to forgive him this and his other tresspasses. Steve closes his eyes and bares his throat to Tony. If that's what he wants, that's what Steve will give him.

For a moment, Steve thinks that might have been the wrong call. Tony doesn't move, doesn't even seem to breathe while Steve waits for him to pass judgment. In the end, it's not Tony's teeth that come to rest on Steve's throat. It's the flat of his tongue, licking a long strip up the line of Steve's throat. Steve gives a full body shudder underneath him, his whole body relaxing back into the mattress. "Fuck, Tony."

Tony's lips curl up into a smile where they're pressed against Steve's skin. Steve clenches his eyes shut, hating how vulnerable he feels underneath Tony. Like the man has complete control over him. Like maybe, just maybe, he'd never stopped.

Then Tony's knee nudges against Steve's burgeoning erection and Steve knows there's no denying it. He's Tony's. He's always been Tony's.

Tony pulls back, kneeling over Steve. He traces his fingers across Steve's face, frowning when they get to his beard. He pulls his lips back in a snarl, fingers pressing the hair against Steve's skin. Steve isn't sure if he's meant to apologize, but before he can do a damn thing, Tony's leaning in close against him and kissing his lips, long and slow and easy. Steve moans up into him, body arching against the warmth and weight of Tony above him. Tony responds in kind, rolling his hips against Steve's. When he pulls back, mouth sliding along the column of Steve's throat toward the collar of his uniform, Steve wants so desperately to go lax against him. He whines as Tony's nimble fingers find the catches and loops and buckles on his suit, making quick work of it. There's a sneer on his face as he palms the fabric, and Steve can't help but laugh that, even magicked to the gills, Tony can be a pompous ass about someone else designing Steve's uniform. The laugh turns to a moan as Tony starts rolling his hips pointedly against Steve's. Steve spares a thought for how the fabric must feel against Tony's bare skin, but then Tony's urging him to sit up and strip the rest of the way out of his uniform to leave it sprawled out on the bed beside them. Tony throws the whole thing to the floor, throwing it one last glare. Steve lets himself indulge for just a moment, cupping the base of Tony's skull and pulling him in close for a kiss. Tony resists for a moment, then goes willingly, taking Steve's bottom lip between his teeth as he sinks into the kiss.

Steve takes his time kissing Tony, wanting both to make this end as quickly as possible and drag it out to be everything he'd always wanted to give Tony. Everything he'd never be able to. Tony doesn't seem to mind. His hips keep up a gentle roll against Steve's, but there's no intent in the motion, just a lazy sort of contentment, like he's chasing orgasm but doesn't want to get there yet. Steve savors every moment he has, knowing, somehow, that this is going to end sometime sooner rather than later.

The moment comes altogether too soon, Tony reaching down to palm Steve's cock between them. Steve gasps and arches into the touch, oversensitive from the time it's been since he was last touched and the closeness of Tony's skin. There's no sound from Tony's lips, just a gentle push-pull of his hand on Steve's skin. It should be better that way, lik he can pretnd this is something thy both want, like he can pretend this is something Tony has chosen, but he knows that's more than he deserves. This is for Tony, yes, but it's only to save him. It's not to give him any sort of prize or treasure or—

Tony thumbs the head of his cock and Steve gasps, arching against him."Fuck, Tony."

Tony tugs at Steve's shoulder until he rolls over, bringing Tony with him. Steve stares down at Tony, trying to understand the sudden shift in position. Then Tony's palming his ass, fingers questing along his skin in search of what Steve knows he is seeking. He swallows, thich and a little desperate. He'd known what this would entail, but knowing and _knowing_ are two different things. He bites his lip and bows his head, pressing back against Tony's searching fingers.

Tony hums below him, nosing at Steve's jaw until hs tips his head back. Tony goes back to work on Steve's throat, calm and easy as anything. Steve closes his eyes and sinks into sensation. He's not sure where Tony gets the lube from, only that his fingers disappear for a moment and come back later slick and seeking. Tony breaches him with the tip of a finger, and all Steve can do is whimper at the touch. Tony nips at the skin of his throat, soothing it a moment later with his tongue. Steve wants so desperately to lean down and kiss Tony as soundly as Tony as kissing him, but he knows that's not his place. This is to keep Tony safe, not for him to take his own pleasure.

One finger becomes two, becomes three, and Steve rides them like they've done this before. Like anyone has ever touched him there. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe through the ache and the stretch until it becomes second nature. There's a whole world for them, a whole way for them to make this work, and if Steve can just do this for Tony—

Tony takes Steve's earlobe between his teeth, a gentle, eager nip that makes him lose track of whatever he'd been thinking before. The fingers of Tony's other hand come around to brush against Steve's cock, not taking him in hand, just reminding him that he's there, that they're in this together. Steve isn't quite sure what makes him so certain that that is Tony's intnt, but he knows, he _knows_ that that's what's going on. He swallows past the renewed thickness in his throat and lets Tony have his way with his body. This is for Tony, but is it so wrong of Steve to take a little pleasure from it too?

When Tony pulls away to grope at the bedside table again, it takes Steve a moment to understand what he's looking for. He grabs Tony's fingers, pulling them away from their search. "Don't need it." The words resonate in the otherwise silent room, piercing the deceptive silence. The bubble Steve's been imagining around them, protecting them from whatever the world could bring to bear upon them. It doesn't shatter that protective shield so much as bring it into sharp relief, a reminder of who exactly they are, what exactly they're doing, and why they're doing it. Tony turns to look at him, eyes still glazed over with magic, but a bit more alert than they'd been ten minutes ago.

"Don't need it," Steve repeats. "Can't get me sick. Can't get you sick. Won't— Won't hurt me. Know you."

Tony reaches up with the hand that isn't slick with lube and cups Steve's cheek. It's the softest, most tender motion Steve's felt this whole time. He closes his eyes and sinks into the sensation, willing it not to go away. Tony strokes his thumb over Steve's cheek, gentle and warm and present. Almost loving, if Steve could let him think the word. Tony purses his lips, pulling at Steve's hips, urging him up and over Tony's cock. It's faster than Steve would have anticipated, more than he thought he would get, but he isn't about to argue. If this is what Tony wants — what he _needs_ — then Steve will give it to him gladly. He lets the sensation take him over, bearing down against Tony and then, all at once, Tony's inside of him.

Steve gasps, tears springing up behind his eyes. This is the kind of closeness he's craved, the kind of warmth and presence and connection that he's wanted from Tony for months. Maybe even since the beginning. His mouth falls open, words and gasping pleas ready to fall from them, but Steve holds them back. This isn't about him. This is about Tony. He grits his teeth and holds back whatever sound he can.

Tony cups his face again, this time running a soothing palm along his jaw. Steve leans into th touch against his better judgment, turning to press his lips to the center of Tony's palm. Tony gives a tiny gasp, as though he hadn't been expecting that, but Steve doesn't hold him accountable for his actions while under the influence. This doesn't mean anything.

Tony's thumb ghosts over Steve's bottom lip, tempting. Wanting. Steve parts his lips and Tony slides his thumb over Steve's tongue. A gentle pressure. A careful reminder. Steve swallows, trying to internalize the reminder, but doesn't let up as he sucks on the digit. Tony hums beneath him, the lube-slick fingers of his other hand coming to rest on his thigh. Steve takes the motion for what he thinks it is, an encouragement to start moving. So he does, lifting himself up on his knees before bearing down and letting his weight carry him back down onto Tony's length. He bites his lip to hold back the moan that threatens to spill from his throat, clinging to whatever safety and reality and calm exists deep within his core. There's a tiny bubble there, a reminder of who he is and what he's done, what the world around him means. There's a moment where he thinks he might be able to live in that meager existence until Tony has been saved.

Then Tony punches his hips up, driving his cock deeper into Steve, and Steve knows that's a lost cause.

Steve grits his teeth and tries to hang onto whatever he can. This is for Tony, yes, but that doesn't mean he isn't affected by it too. He rises up on his knees again, riding Tony as easy as anything. As though he was made for this. Steve can't stop the breathless laugh that rises up in his chest, the way the wanting spills over into joy. Tony's fingers twitch against his thigh, and Steve turns his head, pressing a kiss to Tony's palm again. It's not the only point of contact between them, but it feels like the most important one. Tony presses his palm closer against Steve's lips, then pulls his hand away altogether, bringing it down to mirror his other hand on Steve's hips.

Steve knows what that means. It's a gentle, pointed reminder of the reason they're here. So he plants one palm on Tony's stomach and the other on his hip and leans into that reason. He rides Tony like his life depends on it. Or, more accurately, like Tony's life depends on it. Because it does.

Tony runs his hands over Steve's thighs, encouraging, soothing, one occasionally slipping back to grab at his ass if Steve gets too leisurely in his movements. The tears continue to press against the backs of Steve's eyelids, right up until Tony tightens his grip on Steve's thighs, startling them open. Steve stars down at Tony, bewildered, and tries to parse exactly what's going on. Tony's features are still stoic, still unerring in their calm, but Steve can see a hint of something more inside of them. As though maybe, just maybe, this isn't as unwanted as Steve had led himself to believe.

Steve clings to that hope, meeting Tony's eyes head on and letting himself pretend, just for now, that this act was born of a mutual desire, not out of a cursed need. Tony's lips twitch as though in a smile, but they don't settle on the expression. His eyes are still distant, his mouth still a pursed line.

In a moment of desperation, Steve slides one hand up to cup Tony's jaw. Tony leans into his touch, though his expression is unchanged. Steve bites his lip and nearly gives into the desire to turn away and let his body speak the words his lips can't. But there's akint of recognition in Tony's eyes, a hint of knowing, of want, and Steve can't turn away from him when he has that staring up at him. Tony's trusting him in ways neither of them ever thought would be possible and Steve can't forget that or let go of it. So he grits his teeth, meets Tony's eyes, and does whatever it takes to make this count.

When Tony's hands come to rest on his hips again, Steve knows what it means now. He rolls his hips, throwing his head back as he succumbs to the power that runs through Tony's body.

"Fuck." Steve's voice is a hoarse, breathy whisper. "Fuck, Tony."

The movement of one of Tony's thumbs over the crease of his hip is enough to have Steve hoping for one, desperate, childish moment that this could be enough. That _he_ could be enough. The thought is heady, entrancing, _desperate_ , and Steve sinks into it, letting the strength of it crest over his head and course through his veins and then he's coming, easy as anything. clenching down on the thick heat of Tony inside of him. Tony grunts below him, hips punching up and toppling a startled Steve over to plant his palms on either side of Tony's face. He's close enough that if he turned his head _just so_ he could—

"Rogers?"

Steve closes his eyes, the name an ice bucket on his lingering arousal. "Stark."

Tony's hands clench and unclench on his hips, and Steve takes that for the resistance it is. Still, Steve can't keep himself from turning his head to brush his lips over the hinge of Tony's jaw. Tony goes stiff underneath him and Steve closes his eyes, wishing h hadn't been so selfish. He disentangles himself from Tony as best he can, wincing when Tony slides out of him, soft and uncomfortable in a way that has bile rising in the back of Steve's throat. Steve licks his lips, crawling off the bed with his heart in his throat.

It takes all his strength to find the words. "Guess I'll get out of your hair." He stumbles a little getting out of bed, his eyes searching the room for his uniform. Tony had thrown it somewhere, he just needs to find it and then he can escape whatever hellish nightmare his life has become that Tony knows his feelings and doesn't return them.

"Stay."

Steve freezes, bent over his suit where Tony had thrown it, fully prepared to put it back on and walk back out of Tony's life. It's what Steve deserves for what he'd done to his friend. To the man he—

"Please."

Steve closes his eyes. "Tony—"

"Please."

Steve turns to look at him, heart in his throat. "Why?"

Tony's propped up on his elbows, face just as gaunt and tired as it had been moments ago. Steve doesn't know what he's done to even earn the offer, let alone Tony's persistence. Tony stares back at him as though trying to figure him out. "Want you to." His voice is thick with what must be pain and the remnants of the screaming Pepper had told them about.

"Why?"

"Not a good enough reason for you anymore?"

The allusion to what they had been before tugs at Steve's chest. He closes his eyes, swallowing around the pain. "I wouldn't have thought you'd want me around," he tries instead.

That shocks some of Tony's spark back into his eyes. "I do."

The words are heavy in the room, the memory of an offer Steve had thrown back in Tony's face still too near to ignore. Steve pulls his lower lip between his teeth, worrying it. "And if I say no?"

Tony's eyes flash, but he just lifts his chin. "I'm not still dying if that's what you're asking."

It was, but suddenly Steve remembers how much more there is to Tony than what he lets the world see. He makes his way back to the bed, planting one knee beside one of Tony's. He towers over him like this, so much bigger and so much _more_ physically, but Tony… Tony eclipses him in every way. Steve wets his lips, searching Tony's eyes for confirmation. "And if… if I say yes?" The words come as a whisper, breathed out over the scant inches between them.

Tony leans up toward him, lips brushing against Steve's. "I daresay we could find out the answer to that together."

Steve closes his eyes, tilting his head to brush his lips against Tony's again. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Tony smiles against his lips. "You came back for me. That's all the proof I need."

"I'm sorry, Tony," he whispers regardless. "I'm so—"

Tony wraps a hand around Steve's neck, pulling him down and into a kiss. "I know," he whispers, pulling back just far enough to say it. He kisses Steve again. "I know."

"Can you—"

"I will. Soon. Not tonight, but soon, Steve. Just… just stay with me for now. We can figure the rest out later. Okay?"

Steve closes his eyes, inhaling Tony's scent. "Okay."

"Okay," Tony says, kissing him one more time before he pulls him down into bed. He leans his head against Steve's chest, nuzzling against the bare skin. Steve can't help but smile down at him, reaching up to card his fingers through Tony's hair. "Good."

And, for the first time in months, it is.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for AvengersNewB for my hobbit birthday celebration. Unbeta'ed. Enjoy, my dear!


End file.
